


Open doors

by unmeiboy



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Spanking, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmeiboy/pseuds/unmeiboy
Summary: Kitayama has a noisy neighbor, and complaining about it to him opens doors Kitayama never expected himself to walk through.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the je-united exchange, for orangegreenlove!

Bang. Bang. Kitayama peels one of his eyes open, fumbles for the phone next to his pillow, squints as the screen lights up to show him the time. 02:00 AM. Bang. Only thirty minutes since last he checked, but well over two hours since the noise started. Bang. There has been no moans for the last twenty minutes (or something, he isn't sure), he realizes, only to hear the voice of a man through his wall only a few bangs later, not holding his desperation back the least. Bang, bang, bang. Kitayama can hear him coming now, loud as though the wall barely muffles anything at all, but it doesn't put him at relief just yet. He has gotten used to hearing them, knows that an orgasm doesn't necessarily mean the end for his neighbor and their partner. It is getting late, though, so he has hope, and very well, silence fall between the rooms for ten minutes or so. What follows is the sound of the shower, and it's much easier to fall asleep to.

The first times it had actually been a little exciting. It's not entirely without shame that Kitayama would admit that he jerked off to their sounds, but as it is right now he thinks they deserved it. It has gone so far he really only finds it annoying now, especially on nights before he works. They keep it up for hours into the night, and while Kitayama has had his fair amount of long-lasting sex there has been pauses between rounds. As far as he can tell there are no pauses for his neighbor, and he can't help but question exactly what they're doing for that long.

And even though it keeps him awake a couple of nights a week, he just waits it out, deals with work on the four hours of sleep he gets, and catches up on his sleep during the nights the apartment next to his is quiet. It's not until it has been three nights in a row that he curses to himself, angrily kicks his blanket off, pulls a t-shirt over his head and covers his lower body with a pair of sweatpants before he stomps off to his door. He's not the slightest careful when he closes it behind himself, but he's so irritated that he doesn't apologize to the rest of his neighbors even in his thoughts. Right outside the door to his neighbor he pauses; it still feels wrong to interrupt someone you know is having sex, which is why he hasn't done it yet, but he has had enough now. The irritation is audible when he knocks on the door, hard, and while he waits for a reaction he just stares at it. The kanji next to it reads “Fujigaya”, the same name as the one he always sees on the mail box next to his own downstairs.  
“More like Fuckyougaya,” he mutters to himself. He's knocked out of his thoughts as the door actually opens, and a man with soft-looking dark brown hair, clothes entirely in place with the exception of his half-way unbuttoned shirt.  
“Yes?” Now, Kitayama hasn't heard Fujigaya speak before, but he thinks he can hear a tone of arousal in his voice. There should be one, at least, considering the sounds that have been going on for too long already.  
“Look, I don't mean to be rude,” Kitayama starts (which is a big fat lie, rude is all he wants to be), but he never gets to continue as Fujigaya steps inside with a prepared look on his face.  
“It echoes an awful lot out here.” It sounds as though Fujigaya has understood that Kitayama might be about to yell at him, and hesitantly Kitayama follows him inside and closes the door.  
“You know, it's past one, I don't know what kind of work hours you have, but some of us get up early, and-”

Kitayama interrupts himself as a low, buzzing sound makes its way into his ears. He glances into a one-room apartment that is a lot like his own, only reversed and of course furnished differently. The bed is visible from the entrance, and he turns his eyes away again, quickly as if what he saw burned him. The sight doesn't disappear from inside his mind; a naked person, spread legs and a vibrating toy inside. Until Fujigaya speaks again he just assumes it's a woman and the noises he has heard is Fujigaya's, but what he says makes it clear that that isn't the case.  
“He's just really bad at keeping quiet.” Kitayama feels Fujigaya's eyes on him as he glance towards the bed again, and he feels a lot less like he can tell him off right now, especially with the hint of a smug expression on his face when he looks back. “I suppose I didn't train him well enough.”  
“Well.... Um, anyway...” He tries to find words, but he's lost to the situation. Is Fujigaya really hinting at the kind of kinky things that Kitayama thinks he is?  
“Kento,” Fujigaya raises his voice, “I think you need to apologize to... sorry, your name?”  
“Kitayama,” he answers, doesn't realize until it's too late that he is now participating in the game.  
“Kitayama here says you're loud. That he can't sleep because of you. Don't you think you need to say sorry?” There's a weak voice coming from the bed, and when Fujigaya leads Kitayama closer with a firm hand on his shoulder he follows on autopilot. “Kento, he can't hear you.”

The man on the bed looks so submissive (so hot) that Kitayama can't stop the rush of excitement in his body. Soft brown curls framing a face with sharp features, as far as he can see, because his eyes are covered with a black piece of cloth; his legs start trembling as the buzzing grows in volume. Fujigaya has a hand in his pocket and Kitayama guesses that he has a remote control in there.  
“I'm sorry,” a shaky voice says and Kitayama doesn't care if he's being manipulated right now, he's about to forgive them just so he can leave before he gets other kinds of problems.  
“How do we apologize properly, Kento?” The buzzing goes up another level. “Senga Kento, I'm talking to you.”  
Senga turns his head towards the sound and it looks like he's questioning Fujigaya's words. “But he...”  
“How do you usually apologize?”  
“With,” Senga gasps, “with my mouth...”

A jolt of arousal runs through his body similar to how electricity would when he realizes what the man on the bed is offering, and another when Fujigaya's hand slides from his shoulder to his waist to his hip.  
“Tempted?” Fujigaya's voice is much closer than he expected it to. “He's really good.”

It takes Kitayama a lot of willpower to shake his head and tell Fujigaya that he's going to go back to his place. He never says sorry for interrupting, and Fujigaya never says sorry for keeping him up at night.

That night, they're fairly quiet. The next night too. A whole week passes before Kitayama is actually being disturbed by their noises (by _Senga's_ noises, he corrects himself), and although it does go quiet when he has put pants and a t-shirt on, he still slams his door shut behind himself. Knocking doesn't even cross his mind as he all but throws himself onto Fujigaya's door; it opens and he barges into the apartment only to freeze when he sees the reason of the sudden silence.

Senga is naked and on his knees, lips wrapped around Fujigaya's cock as he gets his mouth fucked rougher than Kitayama would ever dare to handle anybody that had his cock in their mouth. Naturally Fujigaya hears the sound of the door and the angry steps that come to a sudden stop, and his pace falters until he's still; his hand is still in Senga's hair, guiding him up and down his erection.  
“Decided you want your apology?” Fujigaya turns his head to the side, still at the angle he had had while looking down at Senga; it makes his brown bangs fall into his hair and he looks far too hot like that for Kitayama's liking.  
“I want you to stop being loud at night, damn it,” he growls, tries to overpower his surfacing arousal with anger.  
“Would you prefer it in the afternoon?” Fujigaya pulls away from Senga (Kitayama finds it difficult to figure out where to look because his cock is hard and glistening with saliva where it sticks out of his pants), walks towards him until he's close, closer than Kitayama prefers but not close enough if he were to ask his subconscious. “We want you to play with us.” A hand slides into his hair, grips it lightly, tightens when Kitayama nods, even though he wants to be stubborn and say no. Fujigaya is the indirect reason to his irritation and his sleepless nights, but something about him makes him want to agree, makes him want to do what he says, makes him want to see what it is he does to Senga, see if he can do the same. “Good boy.” The hand in his hair pulls up, makes him straighten his back, then pulls him along to the bed.

Kitayama's shoes are still on when Fujigaya pushes him onto the edge of it, has him sit as he leans over him, tilts his head backwards with a tug on his hair, comes close enough for his lips to brush against Kitayama's temple as he speaks.  
“You'll love it.” Fujigaya straightens up and Kitayama's lips nearly part on their own as if his subconscious is telling him to be ready to suck him off, but he steps back to have his place taken by Senga, who takes him by surprise by kissing him. He doesn't get a chance to glance down, but the intensity in the kiss tells him just how turned on he is; he can't say he's surprised when he within seconds has a hand shoved down his pants, stroking him hard as he pulls back and gets on his knees on the floor.

Looking up, his eyes meet with Fujigaya's just as Senga takes him into his mouth; his face heats when he realizes how wanton he must look as he moans softly without breaking the eye contact. There's a smug look on Fujigaya's face, his lower arm is moving slowly, hand wrapped loosely around his cock as he watches his partner's head bob up and down above Kitayama's lap. It's probably for the better when his eyelids close on their own accord as Senga sucks harder, that way he won't embarrass himself completely by coming too fast just because he's watching Fujigaya at the same time. Instead he loses himself to the tight feeling around his erection, the tongue that Senga uses like an expert, and nearly forgets there's a third person there until there's a crack in the air and Senga pulls back with a gasp.  
“Kento,” Fujigaya warns him. When Kitayama opens his eyes he sees the whip in his hand (notes his pants being done back up) and Senga glancing up at Fujigaya, clearly having been whipped. “You're forgetting something.”

Senga tilts his head backwards to look at Kitayama instead of at Fujigaya, and when he speaks his lips are so close to the head of his aching cock that Kitayama almost _feels_ the words.  
“I'm sorry.” The arousal overrides the apologetic look visible in Senga's soft brown eyes, and Kitayama hears himself groan at it. “I'm sorry for keeping you awake.”  
“Good boy.” Fujigaya ruffles Senga's hair, gently first, then much less gently pushes him back onto Kitayama's cock. The faster it gets the harder Kitayama finds it to stay passive, clenches his hands in the bed covers until it gets too much and he reaches for Senga's hair with one of them instead. He barely touches the soft locks before Senga's hand flies up to grab his wrist, pins his hand to the mattress and follows with the other one as well. Looking down he sees muscular arms tensing as he's held down; he hadn't thought about it before, only realizes now that Senga is well-built and strong. The hold he has on Kitayama's wrists won't let him move his arms, but nothing is done to stop the rolls of his hips. To begin with it's not on purpose, just his body moving on its own for the pleasure, but when Senga stops moving up and down he gives a testing thrust, looks up at Fujigaya in what he himself belatedly realizes is for approval.

To his surprise Fujigaya nods, completely contrary to the way Senga tightens the grip on his wrists further, but if he didn't want his mouth fucked he could pull away and he doesn't, even when Kitayama thrusts hard, fast, when he tries to let them know he's going to come but only gets halfway through the word. It's Fujigaya who pulls Senga's head back to have Kitayama come onto his face, sticky white hitting his smooth skin, his tongue peeking out to lick off what got on his lips. Kitayama feels like a panting mess and his brain doesn't really want to be done already, not with Senga looking so aroused and ready, not with the satisfied look on Fujigaya's face.  
“Join us in the weekend.”

When Kitayama leaves them and goes to bed that night, it's not quiet on the opposite side of the wall, but he falls asleep anyway. He doesn't know if it's the irritation having gone away, or the tension loosening in his body; all he knows is that the next morning it has been replaced with some kind of nervousness, itching under his skin. He has no idea exactly what he has agreed to, and he's very aware that there's only a couple days until Saturday.

The days pass by slowly. Kitayama spends all day at work looking forward to coming home, eats his food in with a lack of enthusiasm that reminds him of his young teenage years, goes to bed early but ends up staying awake listening for sounds. What had been torture to him is now curiosity, something he feels frustrated about not hearing. He tells himself it's because he wants to find out what to expect, tells himself there will be clues in sounds he had never figured anything out from before. But it's silent. No moans, no whines, no bed banging against their shared wall. Nothing.

As if in exchange for the lack of sounds, Kitayama's heart is banging against the inside of his chest when he knocks on the door on Saturday afternoon, a few minutes later than the time Fujigaya had specified.  
“You're late,” a deep voice says even before the door has opened enough for them to see each other. Kitayama steps inside without a word, only looks up at Fujigaya with the intention to challenge him (a few minutes doesn't count as late), but despite his tone Fujigaya looks relieved that Kitayama showed up at all. Peeking inside he sees Senga sitting on the edge of the bed, clothed this time, looking like he's putting things in order; Fujigaya notices him looking and steps in the way. “If something happens that you don't like or don't want to do, tell us.”

Kitayama nods in response, the nervousness now a knot in his stomach, but he's not scared. A smooth movement from Fujigaya, an arm lifting, and then there's that pleasantly painful grip on his hair again.  
“Answer properly.” His voice is calm, patient, almost. Deep, and arousing.  
“Yes.” Kitayama has to try hard to keep his voice steady, and he walks slower than Fujigaya when he's led into the apartment.  
“Kento has been talking about you. He thinks you're hot.” Kitayama doesn't answer to that. He thinks Senga is hot too, had loved his mouth, would like to do more to him. But there's a different urge in his body, one that tells him to listen, to obey, and for the first time in his life that urge overrides everything else.

As they approach Senga stands up, and Fujigaya places Kitayama between them, pulls Kitayama's head forward by his hair and Senga is right there to capture his lips. He's warm and soft, hands on Kitayama's waist as he kisses him calmly, lips parting for a flick of tongue. It distracts Kitayama enough that he's a little too slow to raise his own hands towards Senga's body, and when he's about to he is no longer able to. The grip Fujigaya had on his hair is now on his wrists, pulling his hands behind his back where he switches to holding both of them with one hand. He acts like the opposite of Senga, not the slighest slow and careful. His free hand goes directly to Kitayama's crotch and although they are kissing, Senga must be able to tell what Fujigaya is doing when Kitayama gasps against his lips.  
“Don't stop,” Fujigaya mumbles, closer than he had expected, mouth so close to the back of his neck that his hairs rise in a shiver. Although he wants to lean back against him he can't bring himself to break away from Senga, instead puts more energy into the kiss. Keeping up isn't easy when Fujigaya is massaging his cock through his pants, when his wrists are still held tight, even less so when Fujigaya has undone his pants and is skin to skin on him instead and the more he moans, the fiercer Senga kisses him. Fujigaya's teeth scrape against the nape of his neck, then close over it just as he tightens his hand around his cock and Kitayama can't figure out where to go, what to do with himself, isn't sure he can stay on his feet much longer.

Then Senga pulls him in closer as his shirt is pulled up and off by Fujigaya (it nearly gets stuck between their heads and Kitayama thinks he feels a smile against his lips when they reconnect), then there's a hand going down the back of his pants, teasing between his cheeks but only enough to make Kitayama squirm.  
“Kento,” Fujigaya says then and suddenly Senga is gone from in front of him. He gets a rough shove between his shoulder blades, wrists pulled back and then released when the second shove sends him onto the bed. Now Senga is above him, pushing him further up the mattress but he doesn't turn him around, and Kitayama is a little confused that Senga, who had seemed so submissive, is now the one holding his wrists down with those strong arms.

His pants are pulled down and off by another pair of hands, and he gets on all fours only to feel Fujigaya's hand on the back of his neck pushing his face back into the mattress.  
“Look at that.” Fujigaya's voice sounds amused, and he huffs a laugh when Kitayama moans into the mattress at the hand that sneaks between his legs, strokes his cock up and down a couple times. “Such a needy slut.” There's a pause during which Fujigaya's hand strokes the inside of his thigh, up to his ass where it kneads one of his cheeks slowly. “What do you think?”  
“Mm,” Senga hums from next to him, above his head, and the hold on his wrists tightens before Kitayama figures out what they are talking about. The sting of Fujigaya's hand coming down on his ass (when did he even take it away?) makes him realize it, and the next has him shifting towards Senga. For each time Fujigaya spanks him his sounds grow louder, he can feels his skin start aching but he's not stopping yet.  
“See, Kitayama? You're having a hard time being silent too.” He wants to reply to that but Fujigaya spanks him again, interrupts him before he has had time to even form the first word of a sentence.

Kitayama has never been spanked like this before, never thought he would like it, but there he is, painfully aware of his numbing skin and twitching erection. There's no way Fujigaya isn't going to pick up on that, and even if he wouldn't he's sure Senga would; between two hits he stretches his neck and turns his head to look up. What meets his eye is Senga watching Fujigaya behind him, until he notices Kitayama is looking, and turns his eyes down at him instead. Then one of his wrists is let free as Senga moves a hand to his hair instead, pulls his head off the mattress and the few centimeters to his crotch.  
“Impatient?” The question is clearly for Senga, but there is no answer, only a groan as Kitayama rubs his cheek against the hard bulge in Senga's pants. “It'll be your turn soon.”

His eyes close when Senga starts moving gently towards his face, a motion hinting at what he would do if Kitayama was to take his cock between his lips, but the fabric keeps them separated and it's almost more erotic that way. Soft sighs escape his lips every now and then; Kitayama's second wrist is released as well but Senga's movements don't miss a beat. A moment later cool liquid shocks him when it meets his skin, but he expects the touch of fingers next, rubbing over his opening for much longer than they need to.  
“Kento?” There's silent communication above him, he can tell, then a finger slips past his muscle and Senga pushes his face back into the mattress as he moves away from him. The slow in-and-out motion distracts Kitayama, his body focusing on that instead of on the shifting on the bed, but he still understands that when the single finger is pulled back and replaced by two, it's no longer Fujigaya who is stretching him open.

The moan his hears next isn't his own, and it doesn't sound like Fujigaya's voice; he twists a little to glance backwards and swears he feels himself tighten around Senga's fingers at what he sees. Fujigaya is behind him, eyes on Kitayama's ass, his hand dropping the bottle of lubricant that explains why Senga's cock slides so smoothly in his other hand, why Senga is moaning despite the slow pace.  
“I think you can do better,” Fujigaya mumbles against Senga's shoulder, then turns to look Kitayama in the eyes. “He doesn't look busy enough to me.” He slaps Kitayama over the back of his thigh, much lighter than before but it's unexpected and it makes him draw a quick breath.

Senga becomes serious when Fujigaya gets off the bed, fucks Kitayama with his fingers at a pace that only makes him want more, something bigger, even though he knows he's not entirely ready. With fingers wrapping around his cock he loosens up quickly though, possibly quicker than ever before, and he hasn't taken it even nearly as much as he has given.  
“More,” he hears himself breathe then, lips forming the word without his brain asking them to, and Senga is adding a third finger before Fujigaya says anything.  
“You're a real little slut, aren't you?” Fujigaya pulls Kitayama's head up by his hair, makes him support himself on his arms, and when Kitayama opens his eyes to look at him he's almost afraid he might come right then, just from the stimulation combined with the look Fujigaya gives him. “Is that why it's always so quiet on your side of the wall? You're elsewhere, getting fucked, aren't you?”

His first thought is to deny it, it's not true and he wants to tell Fujigaya so, and he would have if he hadn't lost the opportunity to Fujigaya's soft lips against his own, warm and controlling, so calm that it nearly hurts. Because Kitayama realizes he's borderline desperate, tries to kiss Fujigaya deeper, easily parts his lips when he feels the tip of his tongue, but then he has to break away to groan. Senga is pushing inside him, thick and hard; Fujigaya pulls him back into the kiss with a harsh tug on his hair and his brain is conflicted, isn't sure which way to move, toward the pain or the pleasure, can't figure out when he's supposed to breathe but Kitayama's body doesn't know if it can breathe at all.

Senga doesn't go easy on him, his thrusts strong, slow but hard, makes Kitayama yelp into Fujigaya's mouth on every thrust he isn't moaning instead.  
“You're happy now, huh?” Fujigaya pulls back to speak next to his ear; not against it, it's impossible with the way Senga's thrusts move him. “Or maybe you like it dirtier? Do you want it to hurt, while tied up? Blindfolded?” Fingertips press against his lips and Kitayama parts them, sucks on the two fingers Fujigaya slides into his mouth. “Perhaps you'd be satisfied with a cock in your mouth.”

Kitayama expects him to pull back immediately but the fingers stay in his mouth, as if trying him, too see if he's worthy. And for some reason he does as well as he can, like he wants to please Fujigaya, be good enough for Fujigaya, even though he doesn't quite understand why. He only understands that there's no way he will be able to do this at his very best with the way Senga is fucking him, teasing him with slow thrusts only to go fast and hard again, then back to slow.  
“Wait a bit, sweetheart,” Fujigaya nearly purrs as he pulls his fingers away, gets off the bed to remove both his jeans and his black shirt, and Kitayama can hear the result of his physical reaction to the way Fujigaya suggest dirty things in a sweet, gentle way; Senga is groaning behind him.  
“So hot.” It's just a low mumble, but Senga's voice is deep and husky, his thrusts slowing until they almost stop. At first Kitayama thinks he means Fujigaya, because the sight of him stripping clothes off is hot indeed, but then there's a hand on his ass, squeezing sensitive skin. He's positive he's still red from the spanking, feels it where Senga's hand touches him, and it hurts so good. Every squeeze has his own muscles clench around Senga's length, like his body wants it fully inside again, and his subconscious listens to his instincts, starts pushing his hips backwards.  
“Here.” Fujigaya's thumb slips past his lips to open his mouth up, it's gone just as suddenly, replaced by the head of Fujigaya's cock. Kitayama nearly moans himself as he takes it further between his lips, tries to focus on it instead of on how his cock is aching between his legs, craving for a touch it seems he isn't getting yet.

By the time Senga's thrusts grow erratic Kitayama feels like he has no idea what's up and down anymore; Fujigaya's hand is steady on his head, the grip Senga has on his hips only grows tighter, and his own arms and legs are threatening to give out. It's by pure will that he remains up until Fujigaya speaks a word that he doesn't really catch over the buzz of arousal in his ears, a word he figures can have been either permission or a command, because only seconds after that Senga gives two last, hard thrusts, and Kitayama feels his muscles tense against his backside as he's all the way inside as he comes.  
“You're not done,” Fujigaya tells him and it's not until then that he realizes that he has stilled as well. A noise escapes his lips when Senga pulls out, but then he whines in a way he can't recall ever having done before. The touch of Senga's hand on his cock nearly burns, and when it doesn't disappear immediately Kitayama's hips move towards it, couldn't stop even if he wanted to. “Do you want to come?” It's with a delay that his brain takes in the question, and Fujigaya pulls his head off his cock and backwards so he can look into his eyes; Kitayama swears his entire body contracts when he does, and Senga must have noticed too because he slips two fingers inside his hole again. “You'll have to earn it.”

Senga's fingers are perfect to clench around, but when he times the pushes with the strokes around Kitayama's cock he gets more and more certain he won't have time to earn it, however it is he's supposed to earn it.  
“Make me come with your mouth before you do,” Fujigaya says and Kitayama knows that as long as Senga keeps touching him, he will not be able to perform well enough to do that. “Or let me fuck you whichever way I want to.”

He nods at that, he can do that, feels like he would let Fujigaya do anything to him right now, but both Senga and Fujigaya stay in their positions.  
“Or will you take the punishment?”  
“No,” Kitayama says then, surprised at how unsteady his voice feels.  
“Then what do you prefer?” Fujigaya scratches fingernails down his neck; Senga speeds his pace up. “Do you want it in your mouth again?” He shakes his head, and Fujigaya looks down at him with a knowing look. “So tell me.”  
He stays silent for what must be less than a minute but feels longer, until his hips start jerking towards Senga's touches and the heat in his lower stomach grows dangerously fast. “Fuck me,” he gasps, the words feels like shivers over his tongue, voice weak, like his whole body is focused on pleasure and only that.

Kitayama expects Fujigaya to change the position into something much different, but all he does is go around him, puts a hand between his shoulder blades and pushes forward, sends him face first into the bed. He's not sure if Senga is helping him or not, just thinks he might be because it's just a split second between that and Fujigaya pushing his cock inside him with a long, audible exhale. The amount of self-control he must have is admirable, Kitayama realizes, because when he starts moving it's a simple chase for an orgasm for Fujigaya as much as it is for himself.

But then Senga mumbles something to Fujigaya, who stops, pulls back abruptly only to turn him around almost all the way onto his back, then lifts one of Kitayama's legs up against his chest before he pushes back in again. His choice ends up putting Kitayama partly on his side, but he still buries his face into the mattress as well as he can without cutting off his access to air. He doesn't want to look at either of them because it's kind of embarrassing to be so wide spread and still so wanton, and Kitayama rarely feels embarrassed during sex anymore.  
The bed shifts next to him but he doesn't look until Senga speaks to him. “You should come with his cock inside.”  
“Mm,” he nods, hears how it nearly sounds like he's pleading for it.  
“It'll feel so good,” Senga promises as he wraps his hand around Kitayama's erection again, and Kitayama is ready to agree without having tried, because it already feels better than any sex he's had lately. “You're dripping,” he adds then, smears the small pearls of pre-come over the head of his cock and Kitayama can't decide if he wants to move towards that, or back against Fujigaya every time he pulls back to push inside again.

His hitching breath is the first hint that he's about to reach his climax and Senga goes faster when he catches that; he's already so dangerously close to the edge when Senga suddenly lets go entirely that he still tumbles over the edge when Fujigaya fills him again and he has no idea if that was what gave him the last push or not, only knows that it's the most intense orgasm he has ever had. It leaves him gasping for air; he's thankful that Fujigaya stays still while it lasts. Then Fujigaya picks up the pace again, and while Kitayama is absolutely done it is pleasant in the strangest way to feel the slide of Fujigaya's cock in and out of him until it stops with a deep moan echoed by a short breath from next to him.

The soft touch of lips on his own surprise Kitayama, but it seems so natural to Senga that he melts into the kiss, enjoys the slow and much less sexual contact so much that he barely feels Fujigaya pulling out of him, only hears the footsteps on the floor as he presumably gets rid of his condom.  
“Look at that, Kento,” Fujigaya purrs as he gets on the bed, turns Kitayama all the way onto his back, watches him stretch his legs one at a time. “He looks good like this too. The more cock, the better, don't you think?” Senga leans away and at first Kitayama thinks he does so to look at him, but it turns out he's making space for Fujigaya who suddenly is right above him. “Slut,” he adds before he kisses him, but he does it with a small smile and Kitayama doesn't even think to object this time.

“I assume there will be no more barging in on us because of him?” Fujigaya looks smug as he pulls his pants back up.  
“I'd still prefer it if you didn't keep me up at night,” he says, looks to Senga who puts on a similar expression when it becomes clear that Kitayama isn't entirely sure why he is saying that.  
“You can't judge me, that's for sure,” Senga says.  
“I... what?”  
Fujigaya walks up to him, squeezes his waist gently with one hand and Kitayama curses himself for responding favorably to that. “He's louder when I whip him, but you're not far from his level.”

Kitayama can't recall being very loud. He knows he didn't hold any sounds back, but there's no way he could have kept any of their neighbors awake with what noise he did produce. He thinks. Until Senga shakes his head like he is reading Kitayama's mind.  
“I wonder when the next one will come and tell us to shut up,” he sing-songs, picks up the bottle of lubrication to put it in it's right place. “After that I wouldn't be surprised.”  
“Do you do this to everyone that dares to complain?” Kitayama is pulling his socks on, is fully dressed and headed towards the door before he gets the answer; a look towards them and he sees Fujigaya with his arms around Senga's waist, standing right behind him, lips close to his ear like he had been with Kitayama when speaking dirty to him. Dirty or not, the words he says make Senga seem much happier than what he answers suggest, like there is a promise of more somewhere (and Kitayama notices himself feeling more than okay with that possibility).  
“Only the pretty ones.”


End file.
